


Only Know You Love Him When You Let Him Go

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Songfic, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Sherlock's disastrous return from the dead, John comes to make things right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Know You Love Him When You Let Him Go

John paced on the sidewalk. He shouldn’t be here. He should be home, with Mary, with the new life he’d made for himself when Sherlock jumped and John's sun went out. But against all odds the sun had come back from behind the clouds and the heat and the light called to him. Nodding to himself, squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the door and marched up the stairs.

Sherlock was standing by the window. He’d been watching. John closed the door behind him and crossed the floor, cupping Sherlock’s cheek and pulling him down for a kiss.

It was the taste of forbidden fruit bursting across his lips. Something he’d always craved, but never dared sip. Sherlock moaned softly against him and he knew, beyond any doubt, that he wanted this too. They’d been such fools, dancing around this, neither one of them daring to take that step, afraid to upset the careful balance.

Well, bollocks to that. Even if it had taken the apparent death of one of them and three years of separation, John wasn’t going to wait any more. Sherlock broke the kiss to breathe, looking down at John with eyes gone blue-green in the afternoon light.

Silently, John took his hand and led led him down the hall to the bedroom. Sherlock offered no resistance until John sat him on the edge of his bed and toed off his own shoes. “What about Mary?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s you I want, Sherlock. Always.” John kissed him again, pushing him back on the bed and tugging him towards the headboard as he crawled over his body. Sherlock’s hands finally came up, trembling as they cupped John’s arse.

John deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into Sherlock’s mouth. He moaned again softly, a huff of warmth that John eagerly swallowed, fingers tangling in Sherlock’s hair as he rutted slowly against the taller man, both of them still dressed.

“Can I show you what you mean to me?” asked John, breaking the kiss to look at his face, to gently touch a fading bruise from the night before. When he’d reacted with violence instead of grace.

“Please,” whispered Sherlock, hands going for the buttons of John’s shirt.

They quickly, silently, undressed one another, buttons sliding free, skin exposed. John ducked his head to lick and nip at one pebbling nipple, tasting the salt of Sherlock’s skin, breathing in the scent of him. God, he’d missed that, missed this, missed feeling his living heartbeat. Sherlock had never been his to touch, but now, now he was going to claim him, to show Sherlock just how deep those feelings went, how much he needed him.

“John, please,” his voice was a whispered whine and he knew beyond any doubt that Sherlock felt just as deeply about him. _Fools_. So much lost time. But Sherlock was here now, alive, heart beating, wanting him.

Holding his lover’s gaze, John reached down to loosen Sherlock’s belt and draw open his flies. Sherlock simply watched, trusting John. With his life, with his heart, with his body. John moved down to pull off his trousers and pants, leaving Sherlock gloriously naked before him.

Sherlock watched him as John divested himself of the rest of his clothing, kneeling at the end of the bed. Smile quirking John’s lips, he bend to kiss the side of Sherlock’s knee, then slowly moved up his thigh, lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth. Sherlock moaned underneath him, legs falling fully open as John reached the apex and nuzzled into the soft, dark curls, breathing in the pure heady scent of him.

John raised his head to kiss the top of Sherlock’s leaking cock, tongue darting out to catch the flavor. When he opened his eyes, Sherlock silently handed him a bottle of lube, as always, anticipating just what John needed. John moved up and kissed him slowly, savouring Sherlock’s mouth as he blindly coated his fingers and slipped his hand down, just teasing Sherlock's rim.

Sherlock groaned and wrapped his arms around John’s back, holding him close. Not trapping him, but embracing him, turning from the kiss to nibble at John’s throat, to taste his skin in turn. John moaned softly as Sherlock’s hand stroked feather-light down his spine.

He pressed a finger inside. Sherlock groaned and spread his legs wider. John added a second, feeling Sherlock loosen. He rutted slowly against Sherlock’s thigh, leaving streaks of pre-come on the pale skin.

“I need you,” whispered Sherlock, as if to raise his voice would shatter the divinity of this moment. “John I...I’ve always needed you.”

“I know,” said John, nipping Sherlock’s lower lip. “When you left, you took my heart with you.”

Sherlock cupped John’s cheek, searched his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you’d be so affected. I thought… And last night…”

John kissed him to stop his thoughts, to stop his apologies. It didn’t matter, not now, not anymore. He withdrew his fingers and shifted, pushing up Sherlock’s knees, pushing his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth as he pressed his cock carefully into his body.

Sherlock relaxed underneath him, hands on John's shoulders, accepting, wanting, needing just as desperately. John rocked slowly deeper, giving him time to adjust. 

"John." Sherlock groaned his name, tucking his head against John's shoulder, wrapping long legs around his waist. 

"Mine," murmured John. "Yours."

"The two of us against the world," said Sherlock. 

"Forever," agreed John, kissing Sherlock as if sealing an oath. 

They slipped into silence after that. The only noise in the room the sound of skin on skin as John took him deeper, savoring the pleasure, the perfect feel of Sherlock in his arms. 

He slid a hand between them to wrap around Sherlock's slim cock, raising his head to watch Sherlock's face as he climaxed. This wasn't transport, this was Sherlock at a raw, human level, pleasure crashing down. Vulnerable. Beautiful. 

John kept going through it, too transfixed to worry about himself. At last Sherlock opened his eyes, he, smirked and rolled them over. John gasped as Sherlock bore down on him, staking his own claim as surely as John had staked his. 

Now it was John’s turn to relax, to let Sherlock take the lead. This was how things should be between them. He watched Sherlock’s face. His eyes, the shifting colors. The dark, curly, hair framing pale skin. John rest his hands on Sherlock’s hips, closing his eyes as Sherlock brought him to the edge and, after just another moment, sent him tumbling over it. It felt like falling. It felt like flying. It felt like everything in his life had narrowed to this one moment, to Sherlock kissing him and gathering him in his arms as he swallowed John’s panting breaths.

Slowly, John brought his hands up Sherlock’s sides, sliding towards his back. He felt Sherlock tense a moment before ragged welts could be felt under his fingertips. “Oh, Sherlock,” whispered John.

Sherlock shook his head and rolled them onto their sides, John slipping free of him as they faced one another.

“I must have torn those last night when I…”

“Don’t, John.” Sherlock kissed his lips softly, gently. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” said John honestly. “I’m glad for this. We’ll sort it out, we always do. I’m in love with you, Sherlock Holmes, not even your grave could change that. My biggest regret was always that I never told you.”

To John’s surprise he saw tears in the corners of Sherlock’s eyes. “I never had friends, John,” he said as he clasped John’s hand to his breast. “When I met you I knew you were different, but I had no idea what you would do for me. I didn’t understand what I was feeling for you. All I knew was that my one thought, every day, was to keep you safe, was to come home to you, to Baker Street, to our lives together.”

“You have me, Sherlock.” John kissed him again.

“What about Mary?” asked Sherlock again, searching his eyes.

“I told you. I care about her, of course, but not like you. It was always you, Sherlock.” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and tugged him to lay his head on his broad chest, sneaking a peek at the damage to his back. He’d have to take a more proper look later.

Sherlock sagged and John realized he’d fallen asleep. He wondered how long it had been since he slept well. That was a discussion for later. There were a lot of things they needed to discuss later. But for now, Sherlock was here, he was here and they were both home. And that was the most important thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [fanvid](http://deaflock.tumblr.com/post/124041303257/painlock-what-th-e-fuck). Warning it’s very very sad, but mostly it’s the song that inspired this.
> 
> Much thanks to fangirlscout and hums-happily for giving it a read.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [merindab.tumblr.com](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
